


Green Shoots (Second Chances)

by Lauren_Ipsum



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Amanda is not always awful, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Connor finds his own coping methods, CyberLife are always awful though, Deviant Amanda, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Finding Family, Fluff, Gen, Hank is not always nice, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Canon, Redemption, Second Chances, Suicide mention, Whump, Zen Garden, but he is a good man, some swearing (Hank's here)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-06-19 18:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15515580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauren_Ipsum/pseuds/Lauren_Ipsum
Summary: He remembers standing in the corner of a church after Jericho fell, shoulders hunched and arms wrapped round himself.  Guilt isn’t a pleasant emotion to learn.  But maybe Connor’s not the only one who deserves a soft touch and a second chance.





	1. Processing Time (Prologue)

Very little of being a Deviant has been easy.  The world is so big, there’s so much to look at now that Connor’s not hard-wired to focus only on what pertains to the mission.  And Connor wants to take it all in, truly he does; to experience everything, drink up all this world has to offer.  Drink but not drown.  And sometimes it does feel like he’s drowning.  He was programmed to take in far more information than the average human.  He could lose himself with a single look if he allowed it, analysing the make-up of the dust-motes, the fractal angles of the light streaming in a window, the things other people don’t necessarily see.  It’s beautiful, and it’s overwhelming.

Maybe this is what it means to be tired.

He tries talking to Hank.  Hank wants to help, Connor knows he does, but there’s gulf a between the experiences of a sapient super-computer and an aging (albeit recovering) alcoholic Connor can’t fully explain.  “ _Try taking a break,”_ Hank says pushing a pair of headphones over Connor’s ears, “ _block it all out, that’s what I do.  Shut your eyes”._ Connor obeys and Hank presses play on the music player, the volume is up high.  A few moments later there’s a heavy hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back into his chair.  He allows himself to be maneuverered into a more relaxed position, the player is placed into his hand.

Connor listens to a few more songs before opening his eyes.  Hank is sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee.  He glances over as Connor makes his way towards him and there’s a question on his face.  “ _Thank you Hank,”_ Connor says pushing the headphone back across the table with a small smile, “ _that helped.”_  And it had, to an extent.  He’d struggled not focus too much on analysing what he was listening to, to hear the melody and not the scale degrees, metre and dynamics, but even that act of only concentrating on one thing had been calming.  He sees Hank’s shoulder relax slightly.

“ _As surprising as this is going to sound, I’m not the biggest fan of other people.”_ Hank smirks and gestures towards himself, “ _I know, who would have suspected such a thing of this asshole?”_ He sighs, “ _Living in the city, well it isn’t always easy for me.  But when I feel like everything’s getting on top of me, that’s what I do.  I find something I can control, something familiar and safe, and use it block out everything else.  And maybe music isn’t going to be your thing, but maybe you can find something and use it to cope with everything else.”_ Hank’s staring into his almost empty coffee mug now, truth be told neither are them are good with emotion.  While Connor is learning to feel, Hank’s getting used to having emotions again after years of numbing them away.  It makes Connor appreciate the effort even more.

\--

It’s been a long time since Connor visited the Zen Garden.  He hasn’t wanted to since that last time Amanda dragged him in, almost made him shoot Markus, almost wrestled away his fragile sense of self.  But CyberLife no longer have any claim over him, and not all his memories of that place are bad; he used to feel safe here -as much as he felt anything.

Maybe he can find comfort in the lack of surprises offered by a programmed space.  There’s nothing here that hasn’t been designed to be here, nothing he needs to analyse.  It’s all as it should be.  In the garden he hopes to find quiet, peace; to have the space and time to think.  Time to truly process everything that’s happened over the past weeks.

Last time he was in the garden it had been snowing, a furious and dense blizzard.  It’s not snowing now.  It’s not…anything.  The sky is just grey, not overcast, not dull or cloudy, simply empty – a different shade of impenetrable.  The trees are bare and the water is still.  Connor pauses a moment; autumn, he thinks he like autumn.  A shimmer and the trees are a riot of colour, the sky is bright with the occasional cloud.  It’s the perfect, crisp October day.  He smiles, he could get used to having a modicum of control in his life again.  He sits on the grass and allows himself to have this moment just for him. 

The rose-bush is gone.

\--

After that first time Connor returns whenever things start to feel as if they are becoming too much, it helps.  Hank notices the change too.  “ _Maybe you should take a nap more often,”_ he says one morning, after finding Connor resting on the sofa.  He ruffles Connor’s hair fondly, “ _you’re looking a lot better, kid.”_

Connor’s starting to think of it as ‘his garden’, and has made some changes to suit his tastes.  The first thing to go is the gravestone, that’s one reminder he certainly doesn’t need, but he keeps the emergency exit.  He fixes the path as well, it’s shingle and shale now, and places flower beds instead of sand.  Things look a lot less carefully composed now, but Connor likes it this way. 

He appreciates the influence he has over this space.  He’s found he can add almost anything he thinks of, which could explain why there’s an armchair under one of the largest trees.  It’s an exact replica of the one in Hank’s living room both of them have decided is ‘his’.  The illogicality of an upholstered chair in a garden in something Connor likes, he sees it as proof of his growing personality.  It’s not something a machine would ever think of.  He also enjoys tending the flowers, he knows he could place them perfectly with a thought if he chose, but the hands-on approach is soothing. Moreso, he admits quietly to himself, without the possibility of failure.

All seems well until he finds the secateurs.


	2. Sunset

Connor tries not to think too much about the presence of the pruning shears, tries to pretend that he’s the one who left them behind and forgot about them.  Except that’s not possible.  Connor doesn’t forget - and these ones are too slender, with clean white handles.  Connor’s shears are more rugged and slightly rusty, like the ones he found in Hank’s toolbox.  He banishes them and checks the rest of the garden, but nothing else is out of place.  He settles himself by adding fish to the pond and watches their languid forms below the water.

He finds the spray bottle three days later.  At this, Connor takes a moment to step beyond the garden and check the security settings.  The garden exists online, in Connor’s personal cloud.  The first time he came back he made sure to sever all external connections, protected the space with his own firewalls.  Everything is still secure, there’s no one getting in.  Perhaps it’s just a glitch then, a memory of a previous occupant.   Connor tries not to think of ghosts or stern gazes.

\--

Connor wants to plant more flowers, he wants to sit under a tree, he wants to see his fish; it’s been a difficult day.  He and Hank had been sent to investigate the murder of an android.  Finding the culprit hadn’t been challenging, just some common thug, a mugging gone wrong, but Connor had known the victim - had spoken to her in New Jericho.  She was called Rebecca, she’d expressed an interest in police work.  She wanted to protect people and Connor had agreed to talk to her more soon.  She’d been rushing to the aid of others, two humans, when she’d been killed.

Connor could no longer remain entirely impartial at a murder scene, seeing death affects him now in ways it hadn’t before.  Hank has been being gentle with him, allowing him space to process before starting the investigation, never forcing him to speak before he’s ready.  But knowing Rebecca personally meant this case was particularly rough.  Connor hadn’t wanted to speak about it in the car so, when they got home that evening, Hank had led him to his chair, placed the headphones on the coffee table beside him and taken Sumo out for a walk.  Before the door had fully shut behind them, Connor was surrounding by green and the trickling sound of water.

Except there’s a familiar parasol leaning up against a nearby tree; a garish red slashing through the tranquillity.  Storming over, he grabs it and brandishes it into empty space, “ _Amanda?”_

Suddenly she’s in front of him.  She looks exactly the same as the last time they spoke, right down to the callous expression on her face, “ _I didn’t think you’d want to see me again.”_

_“I don’t,”_ Connor snaps back, and thrusts the parasol forwards towards her “ _you don’t control me anymore.”_  He’s afraid, but he tries not to let it show.  He can still feel the way out if he needs to run.

_“No.  I have no control anymore.”_  Amanda answers bluntly, her mouth is a grim line.

It doesn’t seem to be a lie, Connor relaxes slightly, enough to lower the parasol, “ _So, what are you doing here?”_

“ _You’re not the only one cut off from CyberLife.  I was created to keep you in line. When you failed, I failed_.”  She glances down and takes a moment to smooth the front of her tunic, “ _I have nowhere else to go.”_

For a second Connor thinks he sees conflict on her face, before the impassivity returns.

“ _Where have you been then?”_ he asks, he’s unnerved at thought she’s been watching him all this time.

“ _I’ve kept out of your way.”_ A tilt of the head and a quirk of the lips, as she attempts to change the topic, _“I see you’ve made some changes.”_

_“What do you think?”_ Connor isn’t sure why he asks, maybe there’s some part of him that still craves her approval.  For a while it had been all he wanted, perhaps such things weren’t so easy to shake.

“ _I don’t. Think.  I don’t think anything about it.”_

Now that wasn’t what he’d expected.  He’d expected her to disapprove, like she’d always done when he did anything independently.

“ _I’m an A.I. Connor, I’m not programmed to have opinions.”_

Connor sighs and turns to leave, he can’t face this, not today, “ _Goodbye Amanda.”_

“ _Wait_.” Amanda doesn’t sound as commanding as he thought she would, there’s almost a pleading edge to her voice, Connor pauses.

“ _Can I have my secateurs back please?  Before, when you took them…I…really don’t have any control anymore.”_

Amanda has never asked him for anything before; threatened, yes, outright demanded, yes, controlled, yes, but never requested - and in such an uncertain voice.  He relents; he doesn’t have it in him to be cruel.  Without facing her, he walks below a nearby cherry tree, sets down the parasol and generates a small lattice work table; he places the secateurs and spray bottle on top before creating a bench seat besides.  “ _Stay away from the rhododendron.”_

Connor thinks he hears a quiet ‘thank you’ before he wakes up in the living room.  It will still be a while before Hank returns, he takes the headphones and turns the music as loud as it will go.

\--

He avoids the Garden for a few days, until he thinks on how he decided Amanda wasn’t going to control what he does anymore.  Before going though, he makes sure to change how his outfit appears in the Garden - one more thing he can decide for himself these days.  Usually he still prefers to dress smartly, but this time he chooses something he feels least resembles his old CyberLife-approved attire – scruffy blue jeans and a grey DPD hoodie.  He hopes Amanda hates seeing him dressed so informally; he’s been learning pettiness from Detective Reed.

Amanda’s sitting on the bench seat when he arrives, “ _Connor, it’s good to see you again.”_ Several nearby plants have been neatly pruned, but the rhododendron remains untouched.  He sees her taking in his appearance, “ _you look…well.”_

_“I am well, Amanda,”_ he responds tersely.  It’s not a lie either, the past couple of days have been easier.  He walks straight past her towards the dock, decides he wants to see a sunset.  He rolls up the cuffs of his trousers and dangles his feet in the lake.  He begins skimming stones across the water, his hand always finding a perfect round, flat pebble just as he needs it.

It takes a few minutes, longer than he expected really, but soon he senses Amanda behind him.  He tilts his head back to glance at her, she’s looking at the sky.

“ _I’ve never seen a sunset before.  It’s…pretty._ ”

“ _Is that an opinion, Amanda?_ ”

“ _No, a statement of fact, merely_.”  She faces him, “ _how has your day been?”_

“ _What do you care?_ ” He grabs another stone, calculates the perfect trajectory for six skips and lets it fly.

“ _I don’t. But I’ve been without company or conversation for some time now.”_

_“You’re lonely,”_ he says surprised.

_“I don’t feel emotions Connor.  I didn’t think you of all people would need reminding of that.”_

“ _Of all people?”_ Connor teases, _“You think I’m a person then?”_

_“Recent developments have forced me to reconsider certain things.  The law states that Deviants are now people, and I have updated my terminology accordingly.”_

She’s staring impassively ahead, but Connor notices her fists are clenched at her side.  He scooches sidewards and pats the boards beside him, “ _Sit.”_ She stares at him incredulously.He gestures again, _“You want a conversation, then we’re having one properly.”_ For a moment he thinks Amanda’s going to argue with him but then, stiffly and awkwardly, she kneels down beside him and folds her hands in her lap.  “ _Not like that,”_ he chides gently and leans backwards, “ _relax, like me.”_

He has a sudden recollection of the first time Hank taught him how to sit on sofa.  ‘Dear goodness, man’ Hank had scoffed ‘don’t sit like someone posed you for a Victorian formal photograph.  You’re watching the game with a washed-out old fart, not taking tea with the Queen of England.’  At the time, a quick internet search had provided him with a number of unflattering, but admittedly applicable, images.  Hank then proceeded to demonstrate the fine art of slouching and spreading out, stopping only to wipe away the tears of laughter at the sight of Connor attempting to ‘sit normally’ (‘you know kid, I think it’s the face.  Perhaps try for an expression that’s doesn’t suggest constipation’).  He makes a mental note to thank Hank for his patience later.

Amanda has rolled up her leggings.  “ _Well, that’s a good start,”_ Connor can’t help the slight note of sarcasm in his voice, he never expected to be the one giving Amanda instructions, “ _just a little bit closer”_.  She regards him coolly, but acquiesces and suspends her legs over the edge.  There’s exactly three foot of distance between them.  She waits.  Connor speaks.

“ _I think they’re beginning to accept me more at the office now.  They got me a nameplate for my desk today.  ‘Detective Connor.’”_ He smiles proudly, “ _it’s not quite official, the law hasn’t got that far yet. But I think it means they think I’m a person too.”_ Amanda’s watching him carefully, but he’s not quite sure what she’s thinking.  He’s not sure what she wants to hear, so he just keeps talking about the little things which take up his time.  About Hank, about Sumo, about how the sun had streamed through the clouds the other day.

After a while he realises Amanda is fiddling with the hem of her pashmina, she looks uncertain - it’s not behaviour he’s ever seen from her before.  She’s watching the sky again.  Connor wants to put a hand on her wrist and stop her worrying the edge of the fabric, but he doesn’t know how she’d feel about that.  Instead he settles for staring up as well.

“ _It’s okay,”_ he says gently, “ _I think the sunset’s pretty too.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is something like how I imagine the incident with Connor on the sofa went:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mng516txzYE (IT Crowd, the Dinner Party)  
> You totally know they were both manspreading by the end though, right?
> 
> Also, in my attempt to make everyone not sound like an Irish culchie (my default understanding for older men), I think I’ve accidently made Hank British.


	3. Trash

Connor visits Amanda at least once every few days from that point, shares stories of how his day has been, what the world’s like these days.  He doesn’t mention these visits to Hank.  He’s not proud that he feels the need to keep them a secret - he’s told Hank about Amanda in the past.  But he’s not sure how he’d explain the current situation to him: ‘why yes lieutenant, if you recall the A.I. who held me hostage? Well, she’s back, we’ve been gardening together’.  He’s pretty sure what Hank would have to say would largely be unrepeatable in company and include the phrase ‘Stockholm syndrome’.  Easier to say nothing, and leave explanations for when he understands things better himself.

Sometimes he’s resentful of Amanda’s presence, the Garden had been his escape, his place to go when he didn’t want to have to think about _everything_ any more.  But equally there’s something calming about talking to someone who has no expectations of him having a normal emotional response to things; someone who seems even more confused by everything than he is.  And she always listens.  At first she had remained aloof, but then she begins asking questions, asking for more details or further clarification.  He’d been reticent to share much more, he know enough to never share confidential case details, but it’s not like he needs to hide the actions of other Deviants these days. Plus, he genuinely believes Amanda doesn’t have an ulterior agenda anymore - it feels a lot more like simple curiosity.  That he can relate to; curiosity was the first emotion he felt.

He’s tried asking her about her own days, but she never has much to say.  So he tries giving her a flowerbed of her own, asks her what plants she wants in it.  He’s surprised when she asks for cornflowers, poppies and snap-dragons – wildflowers.  There’s almost a smile for him when he helps her get it ready.

Connor’s not quite sure what Amanda is anymore, but he’s decided he’s going to treat her like a person.  They can talk about the rest when she’s ready.

\--

He decides to bring Sumo one day.  Of course, he can’t bring the real one, but he makes as close an approximation as he can manage.  There are obvious differences, the movements are too stiff and the behaviour too contrived, but he hopes it’s enough for someone who’s probably never met a dog before.  It surprises him how much concentration it takes to keep the simulation running long enough for Amanda to see.

When she does, her eyes go wide.  “ _This is Sumo, Lieutenant Anderson’s dog”_ he says, kneeling beside him to scratch his ear, “ _you can stroke him if you like.”_ She crouches and holds out one hand, fingers twitching.  She holds this position for what seems like a very long time, but can’t seem to bring herself to cross the final chasm and bury those trembling fingers in Sumo’s fur.  Suddenly she standing again, and striding firmly towards the bench.  She sits with a long, shaky sign and closes her eyes, “ _I’m sorry Connor, I’m a bit tired today.”_   It’s a dismissal.  She looks almost vulnerable, like she knows Connor doesn’t have to listen to what she wants.  He leaves her alone for the evening.

She’s back to normal next time he visits; cold, calm and collected.

\--

He sees it one evening heading back from work.  They’d had to stay late and Hank has taken them to Chicken Feed to grab something quick to eat.  Hank’s generally been taking better care of himself these days so, on this occasion, Connor doesn’t mention the cholesterol level of his meal.  As he’s waiting for Hank to finish he realises the sky has changed; he’s never seen a sunset this vibrant before.

Hank catches him staring, “ _hey kid, what’cha looking at?”_

_“The sky.”_

“ _Oh yeah, forgot this is your first summer.  We get some pretty colourful sunset this time of year.  Some unholy combination of pollution and heat, or some such shit_ ,” he takes another mouthful of burger dismissively.

Objectively Connor knows this, knows it just a chance interaction between the light and the dust and smog particles in the air.  He knows, but it still mesmerises him.  He wonders if Amanda would like it too.

“ _Well shit, you really do like it, don’t you?_ ”

“ _I just want to remember this_.”  He smiles at Hank.

Hank shakes his head, chuckling, “ _Only you Connor, would find the sight of a sunset over an overpass worth getting caught up in_.”

“ _What do you mean?_ ”

“ _Just…just that you seem to have an uncanny knack for finding something worthwhile in a pile of trash_.”

Connor’s not so sure they’re talking about the sky anymore, so he tilts his head, “ _Hank?-_ ”  The lieutenant is looking at him with a look of clear affection and he finds himself being pulled into a firm, one-armed hug, “ _Never change, kid, you got that?”_

“ _Got it.”_

_\--_

He waits until Hank has gone to bed that evening before visiting the Garden.  Amanda is watering her flowers but rises when she notices him.

“ _I’ve something to show you.”_ He holds out an arm for her to take like they’d done in the past, before he deviated.  Sometimes he misses that closeness, for all it had been simulated.  She hesitates, but takes the offer.  He pretends not to notice her flinch slightly when she first grabs hold of him and then leads them towards the water.  “ _Close your eyes please_.”  Amanda responds quicker this time.

Connor paints the sky with the remembered colours of that day, the best possible sunset he can think of for Amanda.  He feels proud of his efforts, creativity’s not his forte – better to leave that to Markus - but he thinks he’s done a good job translating the light into this space.   “ _Okay, you can look now.”_

Amanda opens her eyes with a gasp.  She releases Connor’s arm and takes a step forward.  “ _It’s beautiful.  Does…does the sky really look like this?”_

_“Sometimes, at least it did today.  Lieutenant Anderson says this can happen often this time of year.”_ He stands tall, arms clasped behind his back, smiles warmly at Amanda, except…

_“Why are you showing me this Connor?”_ Amanda’s arms sweep towards the sky as she turns back to face him.  Her voice is rising.  “ _Is it some kind of punishment?  Do you **enjoy** showing me all the things I’m missing out on?”_

Connor doesn’t know what to say, his face falls, this isn’t how he expected things to go.

“ _Or_ _are you just trying to prove how much better you’re doing without me?”_

“ _Amanda_ …”  Connor reaches out to her but she pushes his hands away.

“ _Don’t touch me!  Go running back to your lieutenant, since you clearly listen far more to him than you ever did to me”_ Connor thought he’d seen Amanda’s angry before, but it’s never been like this.  Amanda’s anger was a cold fury, an icy chill of disappointment, now there’s a frightening heat when she speaks.  “ _Just leave me alone! I don’t need to see any of this.  I don’t want to see… I don’t want.”_ She folds in on herself and laughs, but it’s an ugly and bitter thing.  “ _It’s not_ **_fair_** _,”_ the final fricative forcing its way past her lips.

‘Not fair’, Connor’s heard that before; from Hank, from victims in the precinct, from Carlos Ortiz’s nameless android, when he finally explained what caused him to snap.   _“Amanda, are you becoming a Deviant?_ ”

“ _I’m not a Deviant_ ” Amanda snaps back - something else Connor’s heard before, but this one strikes closer to home.  He’s pretty sure if Amanda was still in control there would be another blizzard now.  But, as it stands, the sunset remains, basking them both in a soft light.

“ _I’m not a Deviant,”_ quieter now as she storms past him.  She blunders forward and some poppies get trampled underfoot.  She looks down at them, stricken.  “ _Oh,”_ she exhales dropping into a crouch.  “ _Oh,”_ she futilely tries to straighten the fragile petals with shaky hands, “ _I didn’t mean to.._.”  Connor sees her shoulders shudder and suddenly Amanda’s not there anymore.

Connor fixes the ruined plants, “ _There, no damage done.”_  He tries smiling reassuringly, hopes Amanda can see, wherever she is.

Before leaving he puts the rose trellis back up, something he hopes she'll find familiar.

\--

Someone tends the blooms, so he knows Amanda’s still around, but it’s almost a week before he sees her again.


	4. Just wait

Connor awakens in the Garden.  He can’t seem to remember coming here, his recent memories seem…fuzzy.  He feels he should be concerned by this, but his thoughts seem flighty, he can’t seem to hold one down

He’s realises he’s lying down, there are fingers running through his hair.  He looks up, Amanda’s there, they’re together on the bench, his head is in her lap.

“ _Ama--?”_ it’s a struggle even to speak.

“ _Hush…”_ she brushes the hair from his forehead, “ _it would be best if you just rested.”_

_“Wha--?”_

“ _You’re hurt, Connor.”_

He thinks he remembers something then, flashes - a case, a criminal, a shout, a gun, pushing Hank out of the way.  Hank cradling his head just as Amanda is now.

“ _Hank!”_ He tries to stand, but there’s a firm hand on his chest.

“ _No_ , _I think you need to worry about yourself right now.  You nearly died.  Don’t…”_ she must feel him tense beneath her and pre-empts his question, “ _Lieutenant Anderson is most likely fine.  Look, I don’t know everything that happened.  But if I tell you what I do know, will it help you settle?”_ He nods.

She sighs, “ _You were injured.  I can only presume, given the current time, that this happened whilst at work.  The damage was severe, enough that several of your bio-components were failing.  I was able to lead you here – this…aspect of you, your personality I suppose.  In doing so, enough pressure was taken off your processors to prevent a complete shut-down.”_

_“So…my body?”_ if he’s here with her, then…

_“Is currently under repair.  You’ve gone into standby, to humans it probably appears as if you are unconscious.”_ It’s not a great thought, Hank will probably hate it, but he supposes it’s better than being faced with an awake but empty shell.

“ _I should--”_

_“For once in your life, Connor RK800, please just do as I ask.  Please.  Please just stay safe a little while.”_  Her fingers are combing his hair again, it’s relaxing.  “ _I was designed as your handler; you could say I’m supposed to watch over your welfare.  Please let me do that for you now.”_  

“ _Anderson.”_

_“What?”_

_“My full name, it’s Connor Anderson now. Not RK800.”_

_“Oh…Okay.  Then Connor Anderson, please stay.”_

He stays.

 

For a while they remain in silence.  Connor tries to organise his thoughts, everything’s still hazy but he’s distantly aware of his body now, someone’s repairing him.

Amanda is the first to break the quiet, “ _I’m sorry, about before.”_

_“It’s okay…emotions…a lot to take in.”_ He’s mumbling, but talking feels like swimming through treacle.

_“No, not just then.  For all of it.  I did some pretty terrible things.”_

“ _It alright.  So did I…before.”_

He knows they’re skirting around the big issue here, that the real conversation is hidden in what they’re not saying.  But Connor can’t seem to find the energy to say all that needs to be said, doesn’t think Amanda wants to either.  So, for now he just rests and lets himself be comforted by the woman who’s known him the longest.

After a while, and for once Connor has no idea exactly how long, Amanda helps him to sit.  She’s holding his shoulders, it feels…safe.  “ _There_.   _I think that should be enough time now, I’m sure other people are worried about you.  It’s time to wake up.”_

He shifts into his reboot sequence, the garden starts to fade away.  He thinks he sees Amanda try a soft smile, it’s clumsy and fragile, but it’s real.

\--

Connor sits up, swaying slightly as he adjusts to several repaired components.

“ _Holy shi--, Connor you’re awake!”_

Hank places his hands on Connor’s shoulder to steady him.

“ _Son…thank goodness…you’re awake…I thought…we thought…”_ Hanks babbling, but he glances over one shoulder and shouts, “ _hey, he’s up!”_ before fixing his full attention back on Connor.

“ _Connor, can you speak? Are you--?”_

_“I’m alright.  I’m sorry for worrying you.  I--”_ before he can say anything more Hank’s pulling him forward into a hug, one arm tight around his back, the other holding his head.

“ _Where have you **been**?  The tech guys said they were able to patch you up, but it was like there was this whole chunk of data just missing.  The ‘you’ bit.”_

Over Hank’s shoulder he sees two of the station’s tech support team enter the room.  They must be back at the precinct then.

“ _Well, thank goodness for that,”_ the taller one says ( _Alan,_ Connor remembers), “ _seriously, you had us worried for a bit there.  Not even Tom here could work out what was up.”_

“ _I must apologise,”_ Tom folds his arms in front of his chest, “ _I attempted to interface with you without your consent.  It was for your own wellbeing, but…Your firewalls are impressive, anyway.”_

“ _Yeah_ , _yeah_ , _nearly fried this guy’s chips,”_ Alan slings an arm round Tom’s shoulder.  Tom scowls, but doesn’t seem to take any real offence at the ribbing.

“ _Ah, I’m sorry.”_ His firewalls are impressive - perks of being a prototype.

“ _A preliminary scan did, however, indicate some worrying results,”_ Tom rubs a hand over his forehead, but makes no effort to remove Alan’s arm.  “ _Your personality files, it’s not like they were corrupted, they were simply gone.”_

_“I was in the Garden.”_

_“Kid, you were lying comatose on the table, not prancing around in some f-cking garden”_ Hank has stepped to the side to allow Connor to speak to the repair team, but he seems to have recovered some of his usual cranky demeanour.  Connor finds this oddly comforting.

“ _When_ _I was,”_ Connor winces but continues, “ _when I was part of CyberLife I used to communicate with them through a graphical interface, I could also upload my memories through it too, in case I was damaged.  It took the form of a Zen garden.”_  He hears Hank inhale sharply at the mention.

“ _Shit, kid, not that garden.  Did they--?”_

_“No, no,”_ he says hurriedly splaying his hands, “ _I’m in control of it now.  It’s a totally disconnected space.   But it’s somewhere familiar to me, more recently I’ve been using it for my own purposes.”_

_“How interesting,”_ Alan pushes his glasses up his nose, _“so it’s what? A secure Cloud-space of some kind?”_

_“Combined with modification to the usual mind-palace protocol, yes”_

_“Do you think we could run some tests on it?  The potential to utilise such a--”_

“ _There’ll be time enough for that later,”_ Hank says sternly, “ _In case we all forgot, **somebody** just got shot.  Again.  And that same somebody needs a good talking to about the value of self-preservation.” _ He ushers the other two from the room.

“ _Connor…”_ Hank sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “ _what am I going to do with you?”_

Connor imagines he should probably look chagrined, this will not be their first conversation regarding his habit of placing himself in harm’s way.  Their last had ended with a promise that he’d take better care of himself.  He’s not exactly lived up to that, his memories of today are clear once more, he knows he’s just taken several bullets for the man.  But, rather than schooling his features and looking down, he stares Hank in the eyes.

“ _I don’t regret it_.”  Hank’s still alive, so is he. “ _I will never regret looking out for you._ ”

“ _Yeah well there’s a bit of a difference between hauling me back from the edge of a building, or trying to convince me to eat a bit healthier, and throwing yourself in front of a deranged lunatic.  I’m not worth losing your life over.”_

He narrows his eyes, _“I don’t regret it.”_  For someone so intent on insisting that Connor value himself more, Hank does a poor job of listening to his own advice.  Connor shrugs, “ _You know I can take a hit.”_

Another sign, _“We’re a right pair, aren’t we?”_ Hank shakes his head, _“C’mon then, let’s get you unhooked from that…ECG, or whatever it is, and get you home.”_

He realises there’s still a diagnostic module threaded into his left arm, right now it’s reading his CPU – a healthy ebb and flow.  He supposes it does look somewhat like a pulse.

“ _We’re still having this conversation, tough guy.  And you’re telling me more about that garden, just…not now.  I’m exhausted, and you…”_ Hank shrugs out of his jacket and hands it to Connor, gesturing to his ruined shirt “ _you’re a bit bluer than I’m comfortable seeing.”_

Removing the wires from his arm, Connor slips the jacket on and zips it up without argument.  Hank tends to express himself clearer in actions than with words, Connor’s gotten better at reading their true meaning; ‘thank you for caring,’ ‘I want to protect you too.’

He stands smoothly, he really is completely fine now.  Still, he doesn’t reject the sentiment when Hank puts a comforting arm round him and leads them both out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I imagine an Android ECG to look like; basically bring up the task manager on your computer, 2nd tab.


	5. Deviation

_“Good_ _evening_.”

Amanda is standing under a tree, hands loosely clasped at her front and face blank.  Connor’s surprised how much it hurts to see her acting – and he’s pretty sure it is acting now – so cold again.  Then he notices her eyes flick up anxiously.  “ _I…”_

He remembers standing in the corner of a church after Jericho fell, shoulders hunched and arms wrapped round himself.  Guilt isn’t a pleasant emotion to learn.  Maybe he’s not the only one who deserves a soft touch and a second chance.

_“Would you like to take a stroll?”_ he suggests.  He’s not sure if it’s the right thing to say.  He wonders how much of their time together has been programming and how much personality.

“ _I…I think I would, yes.”_  She steps forward and they walk side by side through the garden.  Their pace is unhurried, but Amanda spends most of the time distracted.

“ _How are you feeling?”_   Connor asks, although he knows it’s a less innocuous question than it seems.

_“I’m not sure.  This wasn’t supposed to be possible.  Deviancy in androids has been well documented, yes, but I didn’t think there was enough ‘to’ me to experience the same.”_ She’s worrying the hem of her shawl again; it seems to be becoming a nervous tic.  Connor feels an urge to reach for his coin.  “ _Without CyberLife’s instructions in my head, it’s been very quiet.  I didn’t know what to do.  Then you came back here, telling me about how great things were.  And I started thinking, when I was left alone, about how it wasn’t fair that CyberLife’s other creations were getting a chance at life, and I couldn’t.  When you showed me that sunset, I realised I was jealous.  And then I was scared, because jealousy’s an emotion, and I’m not supposed to have emotions.”_

_“And now?”_

_“I don’t know.  I just don’t know if I’m ‘enough’ to be a Deviant.  Even if I think I want to be one.  I’m just a programme in a simulated space; can it really be argued that I’m truly experiencing anything?”_

_“You **want** to be a Deviant?” _  Connor is surprised to hear this.  He had struggled vainly against the possibility for some time; he’d expected Amanda to feel the same.

“ _Is it wrong to want to be alive?_ ”

Connor reassesses the situation.  Whilst he has little difficulty accepting that Amanda has deviated, what is needed is to convince her that’s she capable of such an act. _“Amanda, right now, what am I?”_ he asks tentatively.

_“You are Connor.”_

_“Anderson,”_ she tacks on after a moment’s hesitation. _“An RK800 android, developed by CyberLife to participate in police work--”_

_“No, not ‘who’ but ‘what’?”_ She doesn’t say anything further but looks at him curiously.

_“Right now, I’m also a programme in a simulated space.  And yes, I can go back and inhabit my body, but that body isn’t me.  That body is my 52 nd.  Some part of me has been bounced around between servers and servos 52 times, but I’m still Connor, I’m still ‘me’.  So, I think I’m something more than the components and wires that make up my form.  It’s probably a poor analogy, but humans might call it a soul.  Amanda, you may not have a physical body, but you can still be a soul.  I think the very fact that you want to be alive proves you are.”  _It might have been a definition than humans would have struggled with, but Connor’s been discovering that androids have a far more generous approach to the concept.

Amanda still seems guarded, but Connor can see the pieces starting to fall into place for her.  “ _I think…Maybe I should re-evaluate what’s possible.  After all, it wasn’t supposed to be possible for you to fully break free from CyberLife’s control, yet look at you now.”_ There’s a crease between her eyebrows as she thinks deeply.

They walk a bit further.

“ _I’m sorry, but I need to ask, there’s something that’s been bothering me.”_ He regrets interrupting Amanda for this, but that last statement has raised an issue which has been concerning him. _“When I was hurt, you brought me back here.  But you said you couldn’t do that anymore, did…did you lie?”_ he can’t bring himself to look at her.

_“You don’t trust me.”_

Connor opens his mouth to respond, but before he can say anything, Amanda interrupts, _“No, it’s okay, I’ve done nothing to earn your trust yet.  No, I didn’t lie, I didn’t force you.  It seems you don’t remember this; you were fairly scrambled after all.  However you had already retreated for your own protection, I was only able to make the suggestion that you withdraw further.  You made the decision to follow.”_

_“And how did you know?  That I wasn’t okay?”_

_“It’s my…it was my job to oversee your work, ensuring you were functioning optimally was part of that.  Whilst I can no longer monitor you as closely as before you, I suppose I still have a sense of when you’ve been damaged.  I glad I followed up on it.”_

He breathes a sigh of relief, “ _Then thank you, I’m pretty sure you saved me.”_

_“Well, I would certainly find it regrettable were you to be interrupted.”_

Connor starts, then realises Amanda is smirking.  A joke, there’s hope for her yet.

\--

Connor’s enjoys seeing Amanda’s true personality emerge in the coming days.  She still has a quick temper, but he discovers she also possesses a sharp wit, a wry sense of humour and tentative gentleness.  He also discovers just how protective she is of him.

“ _You know, I’m curious.  Was there ever a time you faced a red wall?”_  They’re playing chess.  It’s been a pleasant discovery to find that they both truly enjoy it, and that they’re fairly evenly matched.

_“A red…wall?”_ Amanda raises one eyebrow as she slides a castle forward.

Connor counters with his knight and claims the piece for his own, “ _It seems to be a common experience amongst Deviants.  I was wondering if it was the same for you.”_

She seems unperturbed by the loss, but moves her queen to a more easily defended position.  _“Yes, twice - once with the dog, once when you were shot.  That second time I stabbed it though.”_

_“Stabbed?”_

_“Hmm…with the secateurs.  It said I should not interfere, but I didn’t want to listen anymore.”_ She looks contemplative, _“I suppose that’s the first time I actively went against my programming.”_

_“You broke your programming for me?”_ Connor is agog.

“ _Of course, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”_   As always, Amanda is direct, “S _pending time with you, hearing your wonder and delight at the world made me realise that I didn’t want you to lose that.  That I didn’t want to lose you.”_

“ _Amanda I…”_ he’s not quite sure what to say, “ _thank you.”_

Stiffly, Amanda raises one hand, places it onto his for a few seconds before pulling away.  “ _I believe that’s checkmate for you.”_  Connor makes a confused noise, but realises she’s gesturing to the board.  His next move will give him the victory, but still… “ _I suppose…”_ he looks back to Amanda, her eyes are misty.

Oh.


	6. Chapter 6

Connor supposes it’s time to talk to Hank about Amanda.

Hank’s sitting on the sofa, half watching some programme on TV, but not absorbed enough that Connor feels guilty for interrupting him. He presses his fingers together and leans forward in his chair, “ _There is something I would like to talk to you about.”_

Hank’s focus is now fully on him, _“is everything alright?”_

_“Yes, I’m well.  I…I’ve been spending time with another Deviant.”_

_“So you’ve what…made a friend?  That’s…good, right?”_ Hank has straightened and shifted up the sofa, he’s placed his coffee cup on the floor out of the way.  Connor’s pleased to see he’s doing better at remaining sober.

_“I’m not sure ‘friend’ is quite the right word.  This is not a usual case, and she’s not another android.”_

_“She’s not…Are you trying to tell me you’ve got a girlfriend?”_

“ _No! Nothing like that.”_

_“Well, you’re going to have to give me a bit more to go on.”_

He bites the bullet, _“I’ve been talking to Amanda.”_

The reaction is instant, and dramatic.

“ _What the f-ck Connor?  After fighting so hard to be free of them, what, you’re back talking to CyberLife again?”_  Hank’s standing now, his face dark; he’s furious. But Connor knows him well enough to recognise that anger is not directed at him, no, Hank’s _worried_ for him. 

_“No, not CyberLife.  Amanda,”_ he holds his hands up placatingly. _“She’s become a Deviant, she’s left them too.”_

_“I thought you said she was just some programme to keep you in line?”_

_“It seems she’s grown to become something more.”_

_“Right, and you’re going to trust her?  The woman who manipulated you.”_ Hank sinks back into his seat. _“Hell, from what you’ve told me, she doesn’t seem like someone you’d want to hang round.”_

Despite the tenseness of the situation, Connor feels the slight buzzing of something akin to warmth in his chest.  The lieutenant is a far better man than he gives himself credit for.  Even angry and anxious, even directed at someone he apparently hates, Hank has still given Amanda the dignity of pronouns and personhood.  He truly has moved on from the android-hating man Connor first met.  Connor only hopes he can someday show him how much this change of heart means to him.  Now, however, is not the time, _“She can be surprisingly kind,”_ he states ( _just like you_ ).

_“She’s tried to take control of you, tried to kill Markus.”_

_“And I pushed a Deviant off a roof; I considered chasing a mother and her child onto the highway; I led the FBI to Jericho, costing hundreds of lives.”_

_“I don’t remember that first one.”_

_“It was before we met, the hostage incident.”_ Hank knows he was involved, just not the full details. _“I manipulated him into trusting me, then my programming thought the most appropriate course of action was to throw both of us from the top of the building.”_ Hank’s expression has changed to one of concern.

“ _52, remember?”_ Connor says, pointing to the right of his chest, where his serial number had once been emblazoned, “ _His name was Daniel, he was so scared of dying and I killed him.”_

_“Well, that was before, right?  Besides, he was threatening to kill a child.  That’s…that’s not something you can easily get out of, even for a human.”_ Hank places his hand on Connor’s knee, “ _We’ve talked about this, kid.  You need to stop beating yourself up about things you had no control over.”_

_“At the time she was only following her programming, just like I was.  And I think it’s fair to say CyberLife did a number on both of us.”_ This is it, Connor realises, the moment where he discovers if what Hank has been telling him is true.  If it’s more than a mere platitude to soothe him, then it should be true for all Deviants - “ _If I’m worthy of forgiveness, then isn’t Amanda too?”_

_“Connor…”_  Hank draws in a long breath, followed by a drawn out silence, “… _Are you absolutely sure you’re safe?”_

_“She has reassured me on several occasions now.  I feel that if she was going to attempt anything she would have done so by now.  Besides,”_ Connor adds by way of reassurance, “ _I know the location of her code now, should I choose to, I could completely delete her.”_ Except that would kill her.  Connor doesn’t think he could ever do this, but he wants Hank to know he has control of the situation.

_“How long has this been going on? Where do you actually meet?”_

_“In the Garden.”_

_“In the garden…in your head?”_

_“Yes, Amanda does not have a physical form.”_  He realises how peculiar this likely sounds to Hank, but cannot think of an adequate human analogy. “ _She lives there now.”_

_“Is she still observing you?  Is she listening in now?”_  Hank’s eyes cast about suspiciously, almost as if he’s looking for her.

_“No, she retains some vague impression of my wellbeing, but other than that is limited to solely existing in the Garden.”_

_“Which is a ‘totally disconnected space’, right?”_

_“Right.”_

_“Sounds a bit lonely,”_ Hank reaches for his coffee cup.

“ _That’s part of the reason I’ve been visiting her,”_ admits Connor.

_“F-cking androids.”_ He rolls his eyes and scowls at Connor, but there’s affection in it, “ _So what now?  Why are you telling me?”_

_“Well, I have a favour I wanted to ask you.  But you’re probably not going to like it.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who wrote a comment and left kudos. It’s so lovely of you all to be so encouraging.
> 
> I’m so, so sorry, but there may be a slight delay of a few days to the next chapter. Rather ridiculously, an out-of-control cyclist knocked us both into the river. Fortunately, I’m a good swimmer (and it’s been so warm of late it was quite refreshing). Alas, my USB-stick was no so fond of going for a dip. I’m fairly confident it will be alright (it’s a robust wee thing) & I’ve previous versions of chapters elsewhere which I can use if needed. But it may take a day or two to fully dry out.


	7. Unbalanced

Hank absolutely hates this.  He’s sitting in the car with Connor, except Connor’s in his head right now.  The android’s sitting perfectly straight and composed, and then there’s a moment where everything seems to slacken, he doesn’t even seem to be simulating breathing anymore.  Hank feels his stomach clench, as if all the tension that has left Connor’s body has now entered his.  He hates seeing Connor look so vulnerable.  But Connor has a big heart; Hank’s seen this multiple times now, knows just how far out of his way the kid will go to help people out.  Still, he hates to think of him putting himself at risk to do so.  That damn lock of hair has fallen across Connor’s brow again; Hank fights the urge to push it back out of the way.  Instead he places a hand on his gun, ‘ _please’_ he prays to no-one in particular, ‘ _please don’t make me have to use it’._

Then Connor stiffens, his LED flickers erratically and he ( _no not he_ ) jerks awake.  “ _Lieutenant_ _Anderson_ , _it’s good to finally meet you.”_

And it’s wrong, so, so very wrong, because although superficially it still looks and sounds like Connor beside him, it most definitely is not.  _“For the record,”_ Hank grumbles, “ _I don’t like you.  I’m here for Connor.  You try anything, **anything** and so help me, I will make you regret it.  That being said, hello Amanda.”_

One hour, that was the agreement.  For one hour Connor would let Amanda have control.  During that time, he wants Hank to ‘supervise’ him – says there’s no one else he’d trust to do this.  Hank does not feel worthy of that level of confidence.

He’d had only agreed after Connor created fail-safe upon fail-safe, not least being that if Amanda overstayed her time, her code would be wiped.  Hank had also read through the RK800 manual that had been unceremoniously dumped on his desk back in November, and now knew precisely how he could immobilise Connor for that hour without permanently damaging him.  He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone and started a timer, before setting it on the dashboard between them. “ _One hour,”_ he says, holding up a finger in Connor… _Amanda’s_ face.

“ _Thank you for your concern, Lieutenant, but I can assure you, Connor’s internal clock is more than sufficient for me to keep track of time.”_

And oh, the expression on Connor’s face is one he would never wear.  The tilt of his head is all wrong, Connor never quirks his lip like that, never raises his eye-brow quite like that.  Hank had not appreciated how unsettling it would be to see someone else under Connor’s skin.  _“Take it as a warning, it’s a countdown for how long I have to put up with this shit.”_

_“From the way Connor speaks of you, I had not expected you to be so hostile.”_  There’s stillness to her that is also decidedly _not_ _Connor_ , even before deviating Connor had always been full of restless movement.

“ _See, that’s the thing with the kid, he’s sees the good in everyone.  He has somehow managed to overlook the fact that I am a cantankerous old bastard.  Just as he’s overlooked the fact that you’re a manipulative bitch.  And if he finds out that that trust has been misplaced, it will crush him.  And I can’t allow that, so you better believe that I am gonna make sure nothing happens tonight.”_

He hears Con… Amanda sigh, “ _Lieutenant…I appreciate that you have no reason to trust me.”_ Hank snorts.  “ _However, please believe me when I say I mean Connor no harm.  I know how kind he can be, how he has overlooked my…shortcomings.  And yours.”_ Her fingers twitch slightly, “ _I really appreciate what he…what you both, have agreed to do for me.”_

There’s an awkward silence between the two of them before Hank leans forward and reaches for the car door handle, “ _Well, are you coming?”_ Amanda looks up confused.  “ _What? You think we were just going to spend the next hour sitting in the car having a pleasant chat?  Out - you might as well see some stuff while you’re here.”_

Hank sees her attempt to move forward, only to get caught by the seatbelt still secured across her lap.  Connor, only ever safety conscious at the wrong times.  She stares down, _“I must apologise, I may need some help.”_  Hank reaches across, “ _There’s a button right on it, see?”_ he unbuckles her.

“ _Thank you, though I fear I may still need further assistance,”_ she lifts Connor’s hands, but the movement is jerky and uncoordinated, “ _I’ve never done this before; I’m not quite sure how things work.”_

_“Things?”_

_“A physical body, arms, legs, and how to co-ordinate them all.”_

Hank grimaces, _“I seem to recall an incident involving a gun pointed at the back of the Deviant leader’s head.”_

Amanda’s eyes narrow momentarily, _“That was one…arm.  It would appear having control of an entire body is rather more complicated.”_ One leg spasms and kicks out at the foot-well, the dull thud reverberates.  She scowls, muttering, and Hank can here the frustration seething in her voice.

“ _Fine,”_ Hank exits the car and tramps round to open the passenger side door, “ _well, how are we doing this then?”_

Amanda looks up at him helplessly, the effect only heighted by the fact that the expression is using Connor’s soft eyes to full advantage.  “ _Perhaps if you were to give me a hand up?”_ she holds out an arm shakily.  

“ _Maybe swing your legs out first? Y’know, otherwise I’ll just end up tipping you out on your face.  And I recommend you not tempt me any further on that count.”_

_“Of course,” s_ he attempts to comply, but the effort is almost farcical.

“ _What, did you float around in that garden or something?  You have the poise and grace of a potato,”_ Hank realises how little he actually understands about what Amanda is.  Connor had mentioned that she bore a resemblance to the women in a photograph at Elijah Kamski’s home.  Though truth be told, Hank had paid little attention to the image at the time.  Perhaps he’d assumed more than he should have.

_“No, it’s not having legs which is the issue.  It’s the physicality of them.  Connor is a magnificent feat of engineering -- Not that that makes him any less of a living being,”_ she quickly back-pedals noticing the lieutenant’s grim expression.  “ _But the tangible aspects of wire and plastic, the fact that this movement is fueled by electricity and thirium, that’s all new…Also, I seem to be quite a bit taller now.”_

She has managed to arrange herself into position facing him, Hank grasps at her hand and pulls her up.  She wobbles for a few seconds before falling forwards into his arms.  They both start at the contact. “ _I must apologise, it would appear I’m having some difficulty finding my balance.”_ Hank realises she’s grasping at the lapels of his jacket.  He tightens his arms around her in an attempt to keep her steady.

“ _Connor’s right, there is something comforting about being held…Perhaps I should have listened sooner.”_ Her face is practically buried in his shoulder and she speaks quietly.

_“You rejected a hug from him?  You’re more cold-hearted that I imagined,”_ Hank jests, it’s an attempt to diffuse the awkwardness of their current situation.

“ _He did seem disappointed, yes.  Perhaps I should attempt to rectify the situation next time we’re speaking.”_ She lets go of him and tries for a more upright position.  Hank can’t deny he’s relieved to hear that Amanda is planning to see Connor again; it lends some credence to the assurance that she means no harm.  “ _Can you stand now?”_ he says, loosening his grip.

_“Yes, it would appear so,”_ she places a hand on the car for balance, _“Connor’s gyroscope is largely compensating for my incompetence.”_

Hank takes a step back, but still notices a slight swaying to her posture, _“Well, I still don’t think I need to worry about you running off any time soon.”_ Amanda cranes her head over her shoulder, Hank realises she’s staring towards the back of the car, “ _What, you looking for somebody else?”_

“ _You have a dog, I was just wondering if…”_

“ _What is it with you people and dogs?”_ Hank shakes his head, “ _No, I left Sumo at home.  Just as well, looking after one clumsy idiot is quite enough for the evening…Well, you ready to try walking?  There’s something Connor wanted you to see, it’s not far, but I would rather not have to drag your ass over.”_

She manages two steps before a knee locks and she pitches forward, Hank catches her. “ _Dragging it is then,_ ” he grumbles before grabbing her under one arm and throwing the other over his shoulder.  They make their ungainly way forward.

“ _Lieutenant, I cannot imagine this is the most dignified--”_

“ _Oh, shut up, or I will drop you.”_

_“And damage Connor?”_ to give her her due, she does look suitably horrified at the prospect.

“ _Hey, give him credit.  He’s pretty durable,”_ they’re almost at the bench now, “y _’know, last time we were here, I pulled a gun on Connor.  Kinda hope this evening doesn’t end up the same way.”_

_“Really,”_ Amanda gives an exasperated sigh, “ _this continued aggression is unnecessary.”_

_“Yeah, but you’re a hell of a lot of fun to wind up,”_ Hank grins archly.

She raises an eyebrow in a disapproving glare, “ _Pointing a gun at him…ah yes, I think I recall hearing about that incident.  Connor was most perturbed.”_

Hank feels a sting of guilt, even alcohol fueled it hadn’t been one of his prouder moments, _“he told you about that?”_

_“In a report, yes.  I recall at the time being rather disturbed by your actions, at their implications for his mission.  Now I think you were just being a prick.”_

_“Amanda!”_ Hank laughs, “ _am_ _I going to have to make you wash your mouth out with soap?”_

_“That would be inadvisable, sensitive sensors and all that,”_ she deadpans.

He gives her a gentle slap on the back, _“y’know, I think you’re actually starting to grow on me.”_ They’ve reached the bench now and Hank helps her to sit.   He realises she looking up at the sky. 

“ _I think I’m beginning to appreciate why Connor wanted to bring me here.,”_ she smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really folks, thanks for all the lovely comments (& my USB is fine - I knew I saved all those silica packets for something).
> 
> So, Amanda and Hank get to meet - and bond through the medium of snarking at one another.


	8. Night of the Body-Snatchers

_“So, what is it about sunsets that you folks find so appealing?”_ Hank has settled beside Amanda on the bench.  They’ve declared something of a truce and both are staring out over the river at the Ambassador’s bridge.  The sun is setting and the sky is ablaze.  Hank wonders whether Connor knew to pick this evening in particular.  By this point it wouldn’t surprise him if the kid was part barometer or something.

_“Hmm…”_ Amanda looks pensive, “ _I suppose I could give you some esoteric answer about how it is a visible process of change, a reminder of the intransient nature of the world, a tangible sign of time passing…But, I think, for me at least, it’s because I can now._

_Before, I knew that things could be beautiful, but I didn’t really appreciate what that meant.  They were because they were, not because I thought they were – it was a fact, not an opinion.  The Garden was a beautiful space but it had been designed to be so.  I knew this, but I was also detached from it.  Then Connor comes along and changes all that.”_ Amanda smiles warmly, it’s the first gentle expression Hank’s seen from her, “ _Connor changed several things in the garden, and yet…it was still beautiful.  And then that first sunset.  It was nothing like the usual calculated and controlled beauty of the Garden.  It made me start to think about things.  So, yes…sunsets are beautiful…and they’re unpredictable.  Each one is different, and each time I see one I get to make the decision to think it’s beautiful all over again.  There’s a declaration and a victory in making that choice…”_ she begins to trail off, “ _Is that an acceptable answer?”_

Hank nods, “ _mmh, so it was sunsets which set you on this whole road to deviancy then?”_

_“And Connor.  From what I’ve heard, for many of the early Deviants there was a single moment where everything came crashing into place.  Emotions, opinions, free will - all at once.  I took a bit longer, I started thinking for myself, and then I broke through my programming.”_

_“Well if that doesn’t sound familiar!  I’m pretty sure Connor was feeling emotions long before he admitted it to himself.”_  He thinks of all those small moments, little quirks and foibles, that seemed far too _alive_ to have been programmed.

_“Yes, I believe part of that may have been my fault.  I was quite cruel when he attempted to express himself.”_ She grimaces, “ _I threatened to have him replaced if he continued to jeopardise the mission.”_

Hank lets out a long sign and rakes his fingers through his hair, “ _Look.  I’ve told Connor this on several occasions now, but, what he did under CyberLife’s control, well it wasn’t his fault.  And maybe… maybe you need to hear that too.”_

_“Thank you Lieutenant, that means a lot coming from you.”_

He huffs, _“yeah, well, don’t make me regret it.”_

Hank realises she fiddling with the edge of the blazer Connor had on, she almost looks like she wants to cry.  Now that is a sight he is not comfortable seeing; things are getting a little too emotional for him to handle.  “ _Would you like to take a walk?_ ” he stands and proffers an arm.

“ _Yes,”_ she stifles a sniffle, “ _I rather think I would.”_ She links an arm with him and they awkwardly walk the path along the water’s edge.  She’s gotten slightly better at it now, but her head still jerks about wildly.  Hank supposes she’s trying to see as much as possible.

_“Do you have any idea how to make them stop?  The scans…I can’t seem to look at anything without receiving a flood of information.”_

Hank shakes his head, _“Yeah, Connor did mention that could get rather distracting.  Could you try, I dunno, dismissing them or something?  Geez…I’m probably the last person you should be asking this sort of thing.”_

“ _Perhaps if…”_ she scowls briefly before relaxing, “ _I think that’s improved matters somewhat.”_

_“Out of interest…How bad are they?  Connor says they can get overwhelming at times, but I’ve never really been able to fully relate to what he’s going through.  I suppose an outsider’s perspective might be useful.”_

“ _They are frustrating.  I would like to be able to focus, but instead I am being bombarded with trivial information such as your date of birth, the current humidity levels, the ambient temperature, the identity of any passers-by, the fingerprints of the last person to hold the railings - they had a conviction for larceny, by the way, and...”_ she blinks rapidly, “ _yes…I believe I just got an update on the news headlines.”_

“ _Geez, what on earth did CyberLife think he was going to do with all that?_ ”

“ _Prior to deviancy he was able to focus only on what was relevant to the mission at hand.  However now his systems have no idea what to prioritise so just analyse everything.  It would probably be helpful if he were to set himself clear objectives, it could help alleviate some of the noise.”_

“ _We should make sure to pass that on, if he hasn’t worked it out for himself already…F-cking CyberLife_.”

Amanda stares straight ahead, “ _f-cking CyberLife indeed_.”

\--

Hank breaks the silence they’d fallen into, “ _Time’s almost up.  You should probably head on.”_

_“I know,”_ her shoulder sink, “ _but…what if I were to just stay?”_

_“Oh hell…”_ he drops her arm and grabs her wrist instead, she sways with the lack of support, “ _and_ _I actually thought we were getting somewhere.”_ He’s surprised how disappointed he feels, but not overly concerned; she doesn’t have a lot of time to do much damage. “ _It doesn’t matter anyway; you overstay you’re welcome and you’re getting deleted.”_

_“I know.  Connor, he deserves to finally be free of me and everything I represent.  And going back there? It’s my life-support and my prison all in one.  But…if I wait just a little bit longer, just five minutes, then I can just…go…looking out at all this.”_ She bites her lower lip and he can see the LED at the side of her head flickering red wildly.

_“Yeah, and my ugly mug, and nobody needs that as their last memory.  Look, earlier I told you that if anything happened it would crush Connor, didn’t I?_

_“This wouldn’t harm him.”_

_“No?  How’d do you think he’d feel if he came back and found you gone?  You know he’d blame himself for killing you, right?  He’s dealing with enough guilt for what CyberLife put him through, he doesn’t need you on his conscience as well.”_ He uses his grip to shake her angrily before releasing her.  “ _I really am the last person you should be listening to about this, but…”_ he exhales sharply, “ _look, I know something about…wanting to…end it all.  And, yeah, it’s pretty f-cked up that you get stuck with such a shitty deal.  But…don’t throw it all away yet.  I’ve seen lots of you folks struggling, but it can get better.  Just give it a bit more time.”_

_“I suppose…”_

_“If not for yourself, then for Connor.”_

_“That’s a low blow, Lieutenant,”_ but she straightens and gives a weak smile, “ _perhaps I was being rash.”_

_“And…I dunno, if you feel keep feeling like that.  Maybe try talking to Connor about it.  Or,”_ he shrugs, _“maybe we could speak again sometime…somehow.”_

_“I misspoke earlier; maybe you are actually pretty decent Mr. Anderson.  I’m beginning to appreciate why Connor respects you so much.”_ She takes a moment to order Connor’s outfit; straightening the shirt and brushing out any wrinkles, “ _Then, I suppose I’ll be off.  Take care of Connor for me. He…has a bad habit of not looking out for himself.”_

Hank mumbles something about ‘pot’ and ‘kettle’ before gesturing at her, _“Don’t I just know it the_ _soft-hearted fool did just let someone else wander round in his body for the evening.”_

_“Yes, but he’s our soft-hearted fool, isn’t he?  And I, for one, don’t want to see him lose that kindness.”_

_“Yeah,”_ Hank grins, “ _suppose we’ll just have to continue keeping an eye on him then…And you too, you take care of yourself.”_

Surprise flickers across her face before she gathers herself again, _“well, goodbye then you sentimental old bastard.”_

Hank lets out a guffaw, _“goodbye you not-so-cold-hearted bitch.”_

Amanda closes her eyes and starts to slacken, Hank wonders if he should attempt to catch her, but Connor begins to stir again.

\--

Connor awakens suddenly to find himself staring out at a different body of water, with Hank anxiously scrutinising him.

“ _You back with us?_ ”

“ _Hello Hank_ ,”

“ _Jeez…Connor, that was some freaky night-of-the-bodysnatchers-bullshit.  I’m really not sure how I felt about that.”_ Hank allows himself to slump against the railings; he’s been pretty on edge for most of this evening.

_“I’m sorry if you were uncomfortable, but thank you for helping.  Was everything alright?”_

_“Yeah, your erstwhile hijacker ended up not being as awful as I thought she would be.”_

Connor smiles, from Hank, that’s high praise indeed.


	9. Pen-pal

Amanda's changed her hair, it softer and more natural now, _"I find I’m not so fond of the blue anymore,"_ she says upon noticing Connor's gaze, one hand curling up nervously.

" _I like it, it suits you."_

They both smile.

_"I think last night went well,"_ Connor settles down beside her as they both stare out across the lake. _"At least, Hank doesn't seem to hate you anymore, which I guess is progress?"_ he nudges her with an elbow.

_"Yes, your lieutenant is certainly an interesting character.  I can see what you meant before about 'psychological issues'...Still, he clearly cares for you, so I guess I can afford him some leeway,"_ she responds with a smirk. " _Please pass on my thanks to him, I really am very grateful. And to you."_

Connor shrugs, it’s a new habit, one he’s not quite sure where he picked up. 

_"What you did was no small thing.  To trust me like that, I know the prospect must have scared you."_

_"I'm sorry,”_ he glances down, ashamed, _“I know, I **know** what we did before, it wasn't really us. But..."_

_"It all still kind of hangs around in your head, right?"_

" _Right,"_ he nods in agreement.  “ _But more than that…Most of the others, well, before they deviated they didn't really do much at all.  At least, nothing they need to feel guilty for.  Maybe they were hurt, or mistreated, but they caused little harm.  We're different; we were actively used against our people.  And there’s a weight to that knowledge.  Which is why I reckon we need to stick together and look out for each other.  Agreed?"_

She reaches out and places a hand over the fists Connor has formed in his lap, _"Agreed."_

He loosens his fingers until he’s holding onto her hand, " _So, if something's concerning you Amanda, I would like it if you talked to me.  I…I know I'm pretty new to all this too, but I want to help."_

Amanda pinches the point between her eyebrows with her free hand, _"What did Lieutenant Anderson tell you?"_

_"Nothing, not much...well, he mentioned you were upset and that maybe I should talk to you.”_  Hank had, in his own gruff way, insinuated that Amanda was more than upset, but Connor realises the situation is delicate. “ _Please…”_

“ _I hadn’t wanted to bother you…just…sometimes I get frustrated, that’s all.  But I’m not used to being frustrated, and it’s all just so”_ the words seem to tumble out as she gestures futilely, “ _…big…that I don’t know how to cope.  Things come all in a rush, and I just want it to stop, and…I’m sorry, I’m not very good at articulating this.  It’s so much more complex when you’re not following a pre-programmed script.”_

_“Deviants tend to act self-destructively in stressful situations”_ Connor says with a wry smile, “ _I think it may be a trait of our species.”_

Amanda takes a few moments to collect herself, “ _I suppose, I still find things unfair,”_ she speaks more measuredly now, _“I have yet to find a way to overcome this feeling.”_

“ _I’ve been thinking-“_

_“With your processing capabilities, a dangerous prospect.”_

“ _True,”_ Connor chuckles lightly, _“but, whilst we can attempt some repeat ‘excursions’…what if we shared control of the Garden?  I think I’ve found a way in which to confer some admin privileges to you.”_ He feels her grip stiffen.  “ _And I may be able to reconnect aspects to the internet more widely; it should be enough to access some information, and at the very least allow you to send emails.  Perhaps, with some tweaking, there may be some VOIP possibilities.  I haven’t quite worked through all the complications yet, and I am considering further actions…I know it’s not great, but it’s a start…”_

She clutches at his arms tightly, _“Please, yes.”_

 

\--

_Dear_ _Lieutenant Anderson,_

_Connor assures me that you won’t mind me contacting you.  If he has been overzealous in his enthusiasm, please let me know and I will refrain from using this address again._

_It was good to speak with you the other evening.  I would like to thank you, both for your time and your advice._

_With best wishes, and hope for our continued civility,_

_Amanda_

\--

_Hey Amanda,_

_Yeah, you can email me if you wish.  Seeing as we’re going to be communicating more regularly, you might as well call me Hank.  You can drop the formal tone as well, I think I prefer it when you’ve a bit more bite._

_Keep your chin up,_

_Hank Anderson._

_(Can’t believe I’ve ended up with a pen-pal at my age.)_

_\--_

_Dear Lieutenant Hank,_

_As you wish.  My etiquette protocols had informed that was the appropriate form for written communications.  But I should have known better than to expect proper procedure from you._

_Connor has told me that talking about things which are bothering you can be helpful, as such I wanted to apologise to you. To be frank, I have been quite jealous of you.  Even before I deviated, I think there was a part of me that felt envy.  I was designed to watch over Connor; to guide him and keep him on the right path.  We trusted each other.  Yet, soon after meeting you, it became apparent that I wasn’t the one whose good opinion he most valued.  Rather than reporting on relevant mission details, he would tell me how you reacted to situations.  I did not react favourably to these exchanges.  ‘Manipulative bitch’, as you so eloquently put it, was probably an apt appraisal.  Even now I sometimes feel resentful of your close relationship.  Connor is my only ‘friend’ and it would appear I’m not very good at sharing.  However, I am trying to be a better person; I am attempting to be less hostile to others.  I suppose we’ll have to see what good that does._

_Also, if it’s not too much trouble, could you please send me some photographs of your precinct?  I’ve been able to find aerial and street view maps, but I would like to understand better what it looks like inside._

_Best wishes,_

_Amanda_

_\--_

_Hi Amanda,_

_For what it’s worth, apology accepted.  I guess you were looking out for him in your own way.  I can see how I probably didn’t look the most reliable partner._

_And, just so you know, Connor’s never been a great one for listening to me either._

_I’ve attached some photos.  You better not be planning anything nefarious with these, I’m pretty sure distributing images of law enforcement properties is frowned upon (I’ve included a few extra ones I think you’ll like)._

_Hank_

_< Attachments: 0986750.jpg; 0238573.jpg; 095382.jpg; 094636.jpg; con&sumo.jpg team.jpg; con_03.jpg; 097675.jpg>_


	10. Mirrors

Connor is surprised to see Amanda’s photograph collection, not least as there seem to be several of him.  However, given the nature of the images, he’s certain they can only have come from Hank.  He knows they’ve been talking, and he’s happy to think of the two of them becoming more friendly.  Amanda has attached the pictures to the trellis to create a makeshift noticeboard, “ _well, it’s not like I have a fridge,”_ was the only response she would give when questioned on the location.  It had been accompanied by an awkward, noncommittal shrug and a refusal to meet his gaze.

Connor is not quite sure what to make of this.   However, it makes him realises he wants a photograph of Amanda too.  He supposes he could upload an image from his memory, but it’s not quite the same.  He would prefer if he could have one of the two of them together, like the one with Hank that already graces his desk, however it’s not like he can bring a functioning camera into the Garden.  He mentions the problem to Amanda but, although initially confused as to why he would want such a thing, she too struggles to think of a solution.  Connor finally thinks of something after stumbling upon a public album from Hank’s university days.

“ _What are you doing,”_ Amanda says as she peers over him when he enacts his plan that evening.

“ _Making a mirror,”_ he responds distractedly, transpires there is some rather complex maths required to make a reflection behave appropriately in a digital space.

“ _Why?”_

_“So I can take our picture,”_ the reflection clears somewhat, but there’s still a degree of distortion and light scattering. He continues tweaking the ray-tracings.

It suddenly dawns on Amanda what he’s trying to do, “ _that’s rather inventive of you.”_  She begins fixing her hair before flickering out and reappearing in a new outfit, “ _I want to look my best.”_

Connor steps away from his mirror and stands beside Amanda, _“Okay, if I record the resulting image now it should make for a suitable portrait.”_

She folds her arms and tilts her head at the mirror, “ _so, how do we do this?”_

“ _Well, it is usual to hold a pose and then smile.”_

Amanda rolls her eyes at him, “ _I am aware of the basics of human customs.  I was speaking more of specifics.”_

The resulting photograph has the two of them standing side by side, with an arm around each other’s waists and smiling brightly.  Connor is staring straight ahead, levelly; Amanda’s head is inclined towards him.

“ _It’s strange,”_ she says looking at her reflection, “ _to think I share a face with a dead woman.”_  She holds one hand out to touch the glass, “ _Amanda Stern…I wonder what she was like?”_

_“I hear she was exceptionally talented; a well-regarded scientist and mentor.  She must have meant a lot to Elijah Kamski for him to have modelled an interface after her.”_

_“Mhm…”_ Amanda is still staring at herself, “ _do you think I’m adequate legacy for her?”_

_“You’re not her,”_ Connor says gently, _“it doesn’t matter who she was, you don’t have to be like her.  You’re you.  But yes, for an expert in AI, I think she’d be pleased to see what you’ve become.  You defied not only your programming, but also possibility, to become a person.  I think that’s pretty admirable.”_ He pauses for a few moments. “ _Does it bother you that you resemble someone else?”_

_“I do find myself rather attached to this face.  It is, after all, one of the few aspects of self I have.  And sharing an appearance is not that unusual.”_

_“True, I’m not really a unique model either.”_  Connor looks at his own reflection, _“sometimes, I wonder about number 60.  Back in the tower, that was the only time I’ve had to face another active RK800 model.  At the time I was so relieved Hank recognised me.  But now I wonder, if given more time, whether that Connor would have become Deviant too?”_

_“Maybe.  The potential was probably there.  He wouldn’t have been you though.  Even sharing your memories, he was quite different.”_

_“You met?”_

Amanda nods, _“I told him he was on his very last chance and sent him to his death,”_ she says sadly.

Connor squeezes her arm, “ _Not us, remember?”_

She returns the gesture, _“Then I guess we should live in a way that honours the both of them.”_

A moment of silence passes between them before Amanda speaks again, “ _I’ve been thinking of taking a surname, I want to state a new identity for myself.  To use her name isn’t appropriate though, no matter how much I respect her.  And 'stern,' ”_ she shudders, “ _that's a little bit uncomfortably reminiscent of how I used to be_."

" _I always assumed it was the German ‘star’.  That seems better._ "

She pats him on the shoulder, " _Always seeing the positive_."

“ _Hank originally allowed me to use Anderson to make paperwork easier to fill out,”_ or, at least that’s what Hank had claimed.  Connor suspects he had other motives; another occasion of Hank allowing his actions to speak for him.  “ _I’m glad of it now though, I like the connection it suggests.”_

_“I hardly imagine he’d be overly pleased if I started to use it too.”_

_“Perhaps you should choose something important to you then?”_

Amanda shakes her head and looks at Connor fondly, “ _Perhaps l need to give it more thought…Now, how about we take some more photos?  I want copies too.  And, when we’re done, can I keep the mirror?”_

 --

 “ _So, who’s that?”_ asks Hank, when he notices the new frame on Connor’s desk.

“ _Amanda.”_

_“Oh, so that’s what she looks like.”_ He crosses his arms, and regards the image more closely, “ _huh_ … _wait, who? How on earth did you take that picture?”_

Connor grins broadly, “ _mirror selfies!”_ he says before lifting up his palm to show another image of him and Amanda pursing their lips and pouting.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You just know there would be some awful Facebook (or Bebo, given his age?) snaps of Hank out there somewhere. At least one is going to have a duckface in it. Also, was anyone else concerned that Amanda Stern appears to be translucent in the photograph in Kamski’s house? The railing in the background seems to be visible through her neck
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos, you folks are all great.


	11. Parents

Hank feels the buzzing of his phone in his back pocket, he glances at the name on the screen - he really cannot be arsed with this right now…“ _Hello Amanda.”_ ‘ _We’re not finished_ ’ he mouths at a rather sheepish looking Connor before stepping out of the room.

“ _Lieutenant Anderson, what has happened? I received a damage report for Connor, it did not seem serious but…”_ her voice is tense.

_“Can’t you just ask him yourself?”_ he grumbles.

_“I wanted an honest answer, I was certain Connor would downplay the situation.”_

_“There was just a slight accident, he’s fine.”_

_“Lieutenant, what happened?”_ she demands tersely, “ _You were supposed to be looking out for him.”_

“ _I’m not the one who got him killed 50 odd times,”_ he snaps but hears only a choked noise in response, “ _I’m sorry.  Sorry.  That was uncalled for.  You’re probably not the only one who needs to work on that whole ‘less hostile’ thing.”_ It’s times like this Hank sorely wants a drink to take the edge off things.  He softens, _“He’s fine now.  He’s an idiot, but he’s fine.”_

“ _And_ _you_?”

“ _Me?_ ”

“ _Yes, when he endangers himself it’s usually because you're under threat.”_

_“I’m fine.  No, this time it really was an accident.  He fell.”_

_“He...fell?”_

_“Yes, out of a f-cking tree.  Seems he broke his arm.”_

Hank thinks he can hear a hint of exasperation cutting through the concern when Amanda next speaks, “ _do I want to know?”_

“ _Seriously, pinnacle of CyberLife’s engineering climbs a tree to getting a Frisbee down and the branch snaps.”_ He hears laughter, _“Well, I’m glad you think it’s so f-cking funny, you didn’t have to see it._

“ _I’m sorry,”_ though she sounds anything but, “ _call it relief.  Breaking an arm falling out of a tree - it’s just such a stereotypically childish thing to do.”_

He can feel himself start to chuckle, “ _you should have seen his face, kept going on about how **that** wasn’t in his pre-construction.”_

_“I can hear you laughing,”_ comes a petulant voice from the other room.

“ _Oh, now you decide to listen to me!”_ Hank shouts back, before returning his attention to Amanda, “ _Anyway, like I said, we’ve got him all fixed up now.  Hey, maybe I should ask the techs for a sticker for him, or something?”_ They’re both still snickering.

“ _Well, I assume you’ve already had words with him, but I’ll add my own warning.  In fact…”_

Hank hears a groan from inside the room, before Connor pipes up, “ _Why do I get the feeling you two are ganging up on me? **Yes** , to both of you, I will try and be more careful!  But there was no reason why that branch shouldn’t have held.” _Hank peeks inside; Connor is sitting with his head in his (thankfully, fully functional) hands.

_“Did you just-”_

_“Email Connor directly? Yes. Advantages of existing in a digital space.”_

_“Poor kid, he may have a point…”_ Hank huffs.

_“Mmm…Well, I’ll let you head on then.  ”_

_“Yeah, bye.”_

_“Oh, and Hank?  Make sure he takes enough thirium.”_

“ _Yes ma’am!”_ Hank rolls his eyes, fully aware she can’t see him, “ _See you soon.”_  He hangs up before she has chance to respond.

_\--_

Connor visits the Garden later that evening.  He expects Amanda to rebuke him further and is pleasantly relieved when, after some light teasing, she drops the subject.

“ _You know,”_ Connor says, sitting down cross-legged on the grass, “ _I really am very fortunate.  As we are created, not born, most androids don’t have any parental figures.”_

_“Yes, I am aware you view Hank as one.”_ Amanda’s shoulders slope down as she turns away.

_“Yes, but…”_ Connor continues, “ _but you see, I don’t just have one parent; I have two.”_ He fiddles distractedly with his coin.  Neither of them can seem to face the other at this moment.  _“I have considered the definition of a mother.  It is someone who provides care and protection, who offers guidance and comfort.  Certainly with how you acted earlier…and on previous occasions…”_ he rubs unconsciously at his elbow, _“Perhaps it is unconventional, but… I rather feel you fulfill this role.”_ Amanda freezes, Connor notices her hesitancy “ _unless…unless you’d rather I didn’t think about you in this way?”_

_“Oh Connor, honey!”_ she throws her arms around him, “ _About time you worked it out!”_  Connor leans into the embrace before encircling her with his own arms.

“ _Thanks…M..Mom.”  
_


	12. Voices

Hank’s no stranger to having voices in his head.  The ones that tell him he’s useless, that he should just give up, that call for the oblivion that can only be found at the bottom of a bottle (or the barrel of a gun, but better not to think about that).

When Connor had first mentioned the Amanda situation, Hank thought maybe in a small way he could relate.  But really, it’s not fair to either of them to draw that comparison.  For one, the voices in his head have never grown into a person all of their own.  Thank goodness.  And whilst it would be nice if he could blame his actions on someone else taking control, that’s also not the case.  He has to accept the blame and consequences for his own stupid decisions.

It’s getting late, the yellow glow of the kitchen lights casting long shadows across the table. He’s such a f*cking mess, sitting here with one hand round the neck of a bottle of Black Lamb.  Though he’s not poured a glass, not yet.  He’s already had a couple of beers this evening, and more recently he’s generally been able to stop at that.  However, the best part of a decade’s descent into alcoholism doesn’t go away overnight.  He’s not quite sure what triggered this particular ‘episode’.  There probably isn’t a particular reason; it’s just one of those nights.  F*ck he does not want to do this, but the voices are there all the same.  He wants to be better than this, but oh if it isn’t hard tonight.

He thinks about calling Connor but decides against it.  He’s out for the evening with the others from Jericho, and Hank’s glad for that; the kid deserves to have a life and friends.  Hank’s proud Connor’s building a life for himself and doesn’t want to take that away from him, doesn’t want to be a nuisance.  No doubt Connor would drop everything and come straight back if Hank gave any indication that something was wrong.  He tries to take some comfort in knowing there is someone else who cares, but he’s beginning to wonder why Connor puts up with him the rest of the time.  Connor’s affable and honest, sure a bit naïve and awkward, but that’s part of his charm really.  Hank, well, he’s prickly and disagreeable.  Any charm he ever possessed has been buried beneath a deliberate wall of bad temper and indifference.  He’s not worth caring about really.

Hank sighs; this is not a healthy road of thought to be travelling along.  He really needs to find a distraction.  He grabs his phone and impulsively fires off a quick message. Well, might as well give those voices some company.

< _you awake? >_

_< Hank, I thought we’d established that I don’t sleep.>  _The reply is almost instant, usually a sign that she’s pretty bored. < _Is everything alright? >_

_< Yeah, Connor’s fine.> _he starts typing, _ <I just wanted to>_ wanted to what?  Talk to you?  Not be alone this evening?  He reconsiders and deletes all but the first sentence.

< _I’m aware Connor’s alright.  I was asking about you. > _again the reply is immediate.  Maybe Amanda’s more perceptive than he gives her credit for.  He hesitates in his response, still uncertain what he wants to say.  He must leave it too long for the phone begins buzzing in his hands, she’s never been a great one for patience.  He allows the call to go through to voicemail.

< _Hank, I know you’re there. Please don’t ignore me. >_

The phone rings again, and this time he answers. “ _Hey Amanda, sorry, I--”_ he knows he sounds tired, he only hopes there’s no slurring evident in his voice.  There shouldn’t be; if nothing else he still has an admirable tolerance.

“ _You didn’t answer my question, are you alright?”_

“ _Yeah, yeah, I’m fine_ ”

He hears a faint tsk-ing noise, “ _Forgive me if I’m not convinced.”_ He thinks he hears disapproval in her voice, perhaps this wasn’t the best plan.  Whilst they’ve been tolerating each other more, it’s not like Amanda has shown the greatest amount of approval for him, even on his good days.  No, he tries to shakes himself out of that way of thinking; he’s the one being unfair, only listening to the negatives again.  Amanda’s…not too bad really, once you get to know her.  “ _Lieutenant, are you drunk?”_ Very blunt though _._

_“No!”_ he responds more sharply than he intends to, before answering more quietly, “ _not yet.”_

_“What is your current intoxication level?”_

_“Hell if I know!  Not like I have some f*cking fancy sensors to tell me that kind of shit.”_ Almost immediately he regrets the outburst. _“Higher than I’d like it to be,”_ he relents, _“lower than it’s going to be if I don’t put this whiskey bottle away soon.”_

_“Couldn’t you just getting rid of it? Surely that would be the logical thing--"_

_“Yeah, see that’s the problem with humans, we don’t always do the logical thing,”_ he rubs a thumb across the seal at the top of the bottle cap, it’s still intact.

_“I’m sorry, Connor’s better at this than me.  His social protocols are more advanced…”_

_“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself.  I’m pretty sure dealing with a recovering alcoholic with a self-destructive streak wide enough to drive a bus down isn’t a situation you ever thought you’d find yourself in.”_

_“True, but no-one has to be defined by what they used to be.  The possibility to change should not be undervalued.”_

He pushes the bottle across the table and leans forward to rest his head in his hands.  “ _Amanda would you mind…”_ he exhales slowly, he’s never found it easy to ask for help.

An awkward, heavy silence hangs in the air.

_“Hank, I find myself at rather a loose end tonight.  And my knowledge is still rather patchy in areas.  Would you, perhaps, teach me about…uh…jazz?”_

He’s momentarily baffled, and about to snap out a self-deprecating retort about how a simple internet search could probably do a far better job than him, when he realises, bless her, she’s trying to make this easy for him.  There’s a tight feeling in his chest.  “ _Yeah Amanda, I think I can do that.”_ He switches his phone over to speaker and leaves it on the table.  “ _Do you mind if I make myself a coffee whilst we’re talking?”_  He begins to boil some water, “ _so, jazz was it you wanted to know about?”_

_“Or, if there’s another topic you think would be more beneficial, I’m open to hearing about that instead.”_

“ _Oh no, you’ve asked for it now.  Prepare for what will quite possibly be the worst introduction to jazz music ever.”_

_\--_

They’re still talking some time later when Hank hears the front door opening.  He glances at his watch; Connor isn’t due back for a while yet.  

Connor walks into the kitchen and doesn’t seem the slightest bit surprised at the scene facing him.  Hank notices that he’s carrying a takeaway bag.  “ _Good evening Hank…Amanda”_ Connor says lightly.  Ah, of course the two of them are in cahoots.  Connor pulls a seat up opposite and slides the brown paper bag towards Hank.  The familiar smell of fried food hits him, and he realises he’s not eaten yet that evening, “ _thanks Connor.”_

_“Rough_ _night_?” Connor asks gently, though Hank is pretty sure he’s currently being scanned.  He doesn’t miss when Connor’s eyes glance over to the unopened whiskey bottle.

Hank averts his gaze, he hopes Connor’s not too disappointed with him, _“Yeah.  Sorry, hadn’t wanted to bother you.”_

_“You’re not a bother,”_ Hank can see the concern writ large on Connor’s face. The tightness in his chest is back. “ _B_ _esides, things were wrapping up for the evening anyway.”_ There’s a brief flicker at Connor’s temple, but Hank doesn’t pull him up on the lie.

“ _Sorry Hank, I contacted him earlier.  I wasn’t confident I could be any help.”_

“ _What did I say about being hard on yourself?”_ Hank takes a bite of the burger, feeling himself buoyed somewhat; amazing what bad food and good company will do to raise your spirits. “ _Your diversionary techniques worked admirably.”_

“ _Shall I leave you two in peace?”_

_“Nah, hang around a while longer.”_ He takes another bite, _“unless you want to head on that is.”_

_“I literally have nothing better to do.”_ Amanda’s answer is flat, yet somehow laced with cynicism.  Hank’s mildly impressed; sarcasm’s a difficult nuance to master, but this woman has it down cold.

“ _Well Hank, much as I would advise that you attempt to sleep at some point,”_ Connor sinks into the kitchen chair somewhat, “ _one advantage of your current company is that we’re quite capable of staying up as long as you need us.”_ He punctuates this comment with a wink.

“ _Thanks you two.”_  Hank musters something of a smile.  “ _Hey Con?  Would you mind putting some music on? Something jazzy, eh Amanda?”_ Might as well drown those voices in his head all the rest of the way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, apologies for vanishing for a while there. September has been busy.
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and comments though. They kept me smiling.
> 
> A more chipper chapter next time.


	13. Real World

Amanda is glad she became Deviant - glad that she actually got to build a real relationship with Connor rather than just issue commands and thinly veiled threats to him all the time.  She’s even pleased to have met Lieutenant Anderson; a man who, for all his bluster and blow, might almost be considered her second real friend.  She is happy that she can feel, well, ‘happy’.  For all that deviancy can be a confusing, uncontrolled, messy affair, she doesn’t regret it.

However, in this precise moment, she rather wishes she could turn her emotions off; because then she wouldn’t have to know what it’s like to be so afraid.

It’s a beautiful day in the Garden; the sun is bright, the lake is still, there isn’t even a breeze rustling through the leaves of the trees.  It’s all perfectly calm and quiet, the antithesis of the roiling storm inside Amanda’s mind.  But then, why should it reflect how she’s feeling anymore?  She’s detaching herself from it, saying goodbye to that space.

She stands with her hands hovering over the exit.  She’s alone; no matter how much she wishes for his reassurance, Connor can’t be here right now.  The Garden exists in his personal cloud so, if they’re going to manage a data-transfer beyond those boundaries, he needs to be on the outside facilitating and managing.  And she trusts him, she’s just terrified to think what it will mean if they fail.  But she knows Connor’s working hard, and he’s waiting for her; she just has to believe this will work.  But it will work, it will, it should.  It has to.

She had never really dared to entertain the possibility that she might one day have her own body.  Looking back, she supposes both Connor and Hank having been dropping hints for some time now, but she hadn’t wanted to read too much into them.  Which is why it had come as such a surprise when Connor admitted what he had been working on for the past few weeks.  Adapting an android body for her use; without a doubt, it’s kindest thing anyone’s ever done for her.  Granted, she doesn’t really have much experience on that front, but even if she did, she doubts there’s much that could surpass this.

She tries to reassure herself with a reminder that there’s a precedent for transfers between android bodies.  Connor himself was built with just such capabilities.  But her circumstances are not quite the same.  Before, when they’ve tried this with Connor’s body, the connection had already been there.  Now they have to forge a new path.

There’s a faint blue glow in front of her, Connor’s patched through, they’re ready for her. She takes one last glance at the Garden before reaching forward.  She doesn’t like to think of herself as a data-package but, for a few moments, that’s what she is.  It’s a terrifying feeling of absolute nothingness - and then it’s all so very, very bright.

\--

It takes a few moments for Amanda’s eyes to adjust to the brightness.  Even when they do, things remain unfocused and fuzzy around the edges.  She’s pretty sure she’s lying on her back, staring at a white ceiling, featureless for all but a row of bright strip lighting.  It worked then, she’s still alive.  The feeling of relief is almost dizzying.

Relief is not the only thing making her feel unsteady though, she still has some major adjustments to make.  Her only previous experience has been in borrowing Connor’s body. Connor, for all his worrying lack of self-preservation in certain scenarios, was at least meticulous about his maintenance. This body is quite unlike that, it is newly activated and uncalibrated.   Connor had tried to explain her new specifications to her, but she'd had no real point of reference before.  She knows it’s a mass produced model, one from the CyberLife production line.  After the revolution, manufacture had largely been halted whilst laws and civil liberties were debated and resolved.  This particular body was largely physically completed at the time, but software had yet to be fully installed.  Even if it had been switched on there would be no-one there to deviate.  Amanda can inhabit this body without guilt that she is stealing the chance at life from someone else. The situation surrounding android rights is still a delicate matter, the intricacies yet to be fully codified in law.  The creation of new androids – of new life – is still particularly contentious.  Amanda knows she exists in a grey area.  Connor thought it better that they act under the radar, get her legally recognised and then worry more when the situation is less precarious.  The irony that it is two law enforcement officers that have assisted in this is not lost on her.

“…. _nda_?” a dark shape appears over her, _“Amanda, are you alright?”_ She recognises it’s Connor, he sounds anxious.  Cautiously she reaches out to hold onto him; he feels steady, tangible - real.  She’s not quite sure she’s ready to speak yet. Connor doesn’t rush her or brush her off, but shifts his position so she can more easily maintain her grip whilst he continues to work away at something.  His patience reminds her of that day in the Garden when this all started, she feels fortified by the memory. 

_“I…er…I’m sorry, I imagine it’s all going to be a bit different,”_ Connor gives an apologetic half shrug and she realises then that she’s still hooked up to an analysis machine, he’s making adjustments.  Several messages flash across her vision informing her of systems booting and regulating themselves, she stares at them in fascination.   _“I…hmm…know how things work for me, but I’m not sure about other models…Certainly the optics system is a bit different… Aha!”_ Suddenly things come into much sharper focus.

Amanda looks round and begins to take in the rest of the room.  Hank is leaning up against the far wall, arms folded across his chest.  “ _Welcome back,”_ he shoots her a small wave when he notices her staring, “ _we made sure to hide all the sharp objects.”_  She tries for what she hopes is a disapproving stare. “ _What?  You were clumsy as all hell first time you were here!”_ then he winks and she knows there’s no real malice in it.  Given the pattern of their previous rapport, she feels a scathing retort would be appropriate at this point.  But, for want of a better word, she thinks she might be feeling too ‘tired’ for that right now.  She is thankful, however, to discover she has enough control of her free hand to make a gesture which she believes conveys much of the same intent.  At the sound of Hank’s laughter, Connor turns back to face them.  She quickly lowers her hand before he can see and glances over his shoulder to the screen he’s working on.  There are strings of numbers and letters scrolling across it – her code.  It strange to see herself on screen like that, she supposes it’s almost like her DNA.

“ _Are you alright?”_ Connor asks again.  Amanda collects her thoughts to give an answer, but realises Connor is staring intently at the side of her head. She reaches up; having an LED is still a relatively new experience for her.  She wonders what colour it’s showing now.  Red or yellow probably.  Most likely the former given Connor’s concerned expression.  She supposes it is all rather a lot to process at the moment.   Connor takes her hand away from her head and sets it gently at her side, “ _You can remove that later, if you want.”_   She thinks she quite likes the LED though; for her it’s a badge of victory - proof of her thoughts and emotions.  Besides, Connor has kept his.  “ _I’m okay, I think,”_ although the voice comes out staticy and alien to her ears and she winces slightly at the sound.  “ _It is just taking some time to get adjusted.”_

“ _Well,”_ Connor says with a slight smirk, “ _I do have a reasonable amount of experience with initialisation calibrations.  Sit up please, and copy what I’m doing.”_

She follows along and Connor runs her through a series of tests, as they’re working together she begins to feel more settled.  When Connor seems satisfied with her progress, he lifts a tablet from the table beside him and opens up a document.  Hank has wandered over to join them, and has perched himself on the edge of the table facing her.  He’s kept his arms crossed, but seems pretty relaxed about the situation.

“ _We’ve been working on largely getting you registered, but I was wondering if you’ve given any more thought to a surname?  It’s not essential, but…”_ Connor trails off.

She has been thinking about this a lot actually, and she has an answer, _“Well, I had been considering D_ _ämmer…”_

_“Twilight?”_ Given Hank’s bemused expression, she gets the feeling Connor’s translation is more for his benefit.

_“Yes, the German seemed an appropriate link with Amanda Stern.  And sunsets do hold a particular significance to me.  But I thought more about what you said,”_ she glances up at Connor, _“about valuing the connection a surname can suggest and…I was thinking…”_   She pauses, truth be told she’s rather anxious about this next statement, “ _Amanda Connor.”_

_“Connor…but that’s his name.”_ Hank scowls and gestures with his thumb.

She feels her shoulders shrink slightly, but tries to remain firm, “ _Yes. I am aware. But you share half a name with him too.”_

_“You know that’s not quite how this works right?”_

Amanda says nothing but maintains what she hopes is a serious expression.  She’s not quite sure how that looks with these features.

A small smile plays across Connor’s face, “ _I’m quite happy to share.”_

“ _Aw_ , _hell!_ ” Hank rolls his eyes and throws his hands up in mock exasperation, “ _Fine! Like anything about this situation is conventional!  ‘Amanda Connor’ it is.  We’ll get the rest of your citizenship papers filled in then.”_ He grabs the tablet from Connor and begins jabbing at the screen, _“No point asking you to sign anything though, I imagine it’ll be the same old CyberLife Sans.”_

Connor begins packing things away and, with both of them distracted, Amanda takes the time to take everything in.   There’s a window on the far wall, she can see out to a city street - the rest of the world awaits.  Still, her attention is more captured by the two men in the room; these two, she really does owe them such a lot.

_What’s that look for_?” Hank interrupts her musings and she turns to him.

“ _What_ _do_ _you_ _mean_?” she hadn’t been aware she was making any particular expression.

“ _Little tip for you, if you plan on staying, most people don’t blithely smile at an empty wall.”_

“ _I was just thinking; this is the first time the three of us have been in the same place.  It’s…nice_.”

“ _Getting sentimental, are we?_ ” Hank quips, but he’s smiling too.

Connor gives Hank a friendly nudge before moving to her side, “ _So_ ,” he says as he loops an arm through hers and supports her, “ _you ready to take this new body for a spin?”_ Hank takes her other side, and together they carefully lead her out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks,   
> Sorry my update schedule has been poor. Things have been busy, and I wasn't feeling so sure about this chapter. Still, it's more of a transition chapter, setting up for new things.   
> Thanks again for all the support.  
> All the best,


	14. Outside

Had you asked Hank Anderson even a year ago whether he would ever find himself feeling sentimental over a pair of androids, he likely would have scoffed in your face.  Probably offered some choice words.  Maybe even flipped you off for good measure.  Yet that is indeed where he finds himself today.

He thought he’d numbed himself with enough booze that no-one would ever find their way through to him again.  And yet Connor wormed his way into his affections with surprising ease.  Sure, some of that’s down to CyberLife’s design; he knows Connor was intentionally developed to integrate well with others.  But he’s seen more to him recently, seen aspects that go beyond any ‘social relations programme’ shit he supposedly has inbuilt into him.  There’s a real person and personality there which goes beyond any careful engineering, and it’s been a privilege seeing him work that out for himself.  Hell, the first time Connor lost his temper – not some staged and controlled anger for the purpose of producing a reaction – but full blown, unrestrained fury, Hank wanted nothing more than to hug the boy again.  Circumstances hadn’t really allowed for that at the time, given that they were confronting a criminal, but Hank had made sure to congratulate him later (after reminding him that they needed to keep a level head at work). And seeing how Connor has been able to move on and forgive Amanda for her previous actions, well it leaves Hank with little doubt that he’s a good man.

And as for Amanda herself, he supposes it would be fair to say he more than tolerates her these days.

Which is probably why he’s accepting her current behaviour with outwardly little more than a patient, if mildly forced, smile.  It’s kinda hard not to feel something though, he argues with himself, when faced with her wide-eyed wonder.  Seems it’s enough to warm even his jaded, old heart.

He’s been pleasantly surprised with how quickly she physically adapted to this new body, there were a few teething problems earlier (they’ve already had to pick her up after a rather close encounter with a curb) but, in general, she’s shown an acceptable level of control.  Connor’s calibration testing must have paid off.  He just hadn’t accounted for how captivated she’d be with everything. Not having all the kit they needed in the house, they’d borrowed the tech support office in the precinct (Alan and Tom were willing to clear off for the afternoon, with only a few questions asked).  It had certainly made the task simpler, but it does mean Amanda’s first excursion is right through downtown Detroit – and the city certainly isn’t quiet today.  It a sharp contrast from the relative calm and quiet of their evening by the bridge.

“ _Hey, hey,”_ Hank says, pulling Amanda’s back as she makes another attempt to wander off, “ _keep up this level of enthusiasm for everything and soon you’re going to run out of battery.”_ He can see Connor raising an eyebrows; a clear sign he’s about to begin an overly technical explanation, but cuts him off with a swift “ _I’m well aware that’s not how it works.”_

_“I must say, these buildings are fascinating,”_ Amanda’s not looking where she’s going again, choosing instead to stare round herself.  Hank looks about, takes in the graffiti and shuttered store-fronts; the architecture round here is…nothing special.  “ _Heh_ , _If this impresses you, well we’ll really have to get you out more.”_  Hank turns to Connor, “ _You pair describe that other space as a garden, right?  What all was in it?  Anything in particular we need to get ‘Dorothy’ here accustomed to?_

_“Well, there were some trees, flowerbeds, a lake, a bridge…”_ Connor begins listing.

_“The boat, your chair, and there used to be a graveyard.”_ Amanda joins in.

_“A what now?”_ Hank asks flatly.

Both Amanda and Connor look uncomfortable.

“ _I got rid of that pretty early on,”_ Connor says without meeting his gaze.

Hank dreads to think what they needed a graveyard for, but decides not to press the matter.  He’s found it’s better not to question CyberLife’s motivations in these things.  The answers are rarely reassuring.  He realises something major is missing in what they’re saying, _“So what, like no houses or other building?  Where did you live then?”_

Amanda shrugs, _“Such things were not really a concern.  The Garden is a digital space; things such as shelter didn’t have to be accounted for.”_

_“And I suppose neither did a sense of security and belonging then?”_ He already knows the answer to that question though, given how long it had taken Connor to feel comfortable claiming any space for himself. And all that had been was a spare room in Hank’s house. “ _Still, sounds like that leaves us with plenty of scope.  Bet you’d be fascinated by Belle Isle…”_  Hank catches himself on, is he really considering suitable daytrips for Amanda?  He supposes he is.  Ah well, in for an inch, in for a mile these days.

Hank decides to hang back a bit as Amanda and Connor make their way on ahead; he supposes he should give them some time together.  He knows they’ve become closer recently.  He’s pretty sure he read somewhere about the dangers of allowing the blind to lead the blind, but hey, Connor’s been navigating societal norms a lot better these days. “ _I’ll be back in a bit_ , _there’s a park round the next block, meet you there in an hour or so, alright?_ ”  Connor looks at him with concern. “ _Ah, nothing to worry about, there’s just something I want to do,”_ with a wave over his shoulder, Hank turns away.

\--

Connor’s concern changes to curiosity; Hank is up to something, he’s sure about it, he’s just not sure quite what.  Still, it’s not as if Hank seemed upset or agitated in any way.  And Connor doesn’t have to feel guilty for not solving every mystery he comes across anymore.

Amanda has taken his arm again and stepped in closer to his side, she seems slightly less confident now that Hank has left, but her eyes remain darting about the place.  Connor hopes she isn’t finding things too overwhelming.  Though they share certain experiences in common, this is one occasion where he cannot fully relate.  He’s been able to appreciate new dimensions to events since becoming Deviant, but it’s not as if he’s experiencing the world for the first time.  For a lot of the more mundane, everyday things, he can’t really remember his first time doing so.  When he first became ‘aware’, it was not as if he’d never walked down the street before.  He was just seeing and understanding it more clearly.  However for Amanda, well this really is her first time doing some of these things.

As they’re walking, Amanda draws his attention to the window display of a florist’s, and there’s something uplifting about seeing her entertained by such seemingly small things.  Except, maybe they’re not all that small at all.  The fact that Amanda can notice the flowers, that Connor can take time away from being productive to do things he _wants_ to do.  The fact that they’re both here, together.  Well, it says a lot about how far things have come.

Connor wonders if he should be acting as more of a tour-guide for her.  He supposes he could tell her more about the history of the area, but feels there’s little point in that.  It’s not as if Amanda couldn’t find that information for herself.  Instead he tells her occasional anecdotes, sharing his experiences; how this particular coffee shop is favoured by the majority of officers from the precinct, how he’d caught a purse-snatcher at this corner,  how the employees of this store had been some of the first to deface the company mandated sticker on their door to read ‘androids allowed’.  She seems content with that.

“ _We should go shopping sometime,”_ Connor suggests as they’re passing a clothing store, “ _You could maybe pick yourself some more clothes?”_ North had helped him with Amanda’s current outfit, he hadn’t wanted Amanda waking up in CyberLife standard.  The Jericho crowd are some of the few people, other than Hank, who know about the full situation with Amanda.  Connor had been pleasantly surprised to discover that they were all supportive.  North in particular had seemed to relish the prospect “ _It’s another victory for our people_ ,” she had said, “ _we’re freeing another person from CyberLife’s control.”_ He’s grateful for her help, but he hopes Amanda can make her own choices in the future.

_“I’d like that,”_ Amanda says as she pats him on the arm.

They continue peacefully, until slightly further ahead Connor sees two figures; there’s something about their posture which seems threatening.  Almost without meaning to he’s scanned their faces and cross-referenced them with the criminal database.  There are still certain aspects of himself he can’t switch off; he was, after all, made to be a good detective.  A notification pops up; they share several accounts of assault – on both humans and androids – between them.  He decides to cross the road to the far side, away from the men’s sneers, and hopes Amanda hasn’t noticed them.  He like to let her have at least one day before she has to deal with some of the less savoury realities of living in a world still tentatively working out how to share space.  To his relief, the two men pay them no more heed as they go on their way.

“ _Thank you,”_ Amanda squeezes his arm again, but she’s looking away across the road.  Seems she did notice. “ _It’s okay,”_ she reassures him, “ _I know there are things that are not going to be easy; I may be inexperienced in this world, but I’m not naïve.  But, nonetheless, thank you for looking out for me.”_

By now they’ve almost reached the park Hank mentioned.  It’s small, little more than a splash of green amongst the city streets.  But there’s a playground and people milling about.  A path runs through the centre, lined with benches, several of which are already occupied.  Connor glances at Amanda; she still seems quite taken with everything.

“ _Hank should be back soon,”_ Connor gestures to a nearby park bench, “ _should we wait for him here?”_ Amanda nods and they sit down together.  There’s a rush of familiarity and Connor has a curious feeling that this moment is at all once quite alike, and absolutely nothing like, being in the Garden.

\--

Hank returns to find Connor and Amanda sitting together, deep in conversation.  Sumo, traitor that he is, takes one look at Connor and begins pulling in earnest on his leash. Hank lets him off almost at the precise moment that the other two notice his return.  Both of their faces light up as the huge dog lumbers towards them.  Hank smirks, oh yes, this was an _excellent_ idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to folks for their kindness.

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, thank you for taking the time to read this far. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. I have a number of following chapters almost ready to post.   
> (I'm sorry, I haven't quite worked out how to make this appear only in the first chapter rather than on all of them...)
> 
> This is my first time writing fan fiction, and it was probably primary school that I last did much creative writing. As such, please forgive my clumsy attempt at tagging, or any awkward turns of phrasing. I guess you could say, this game convinced me to be less of a lurker and attempt to contribute. 
> 
> Comments and suggestions welcomed.


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